


Christmas Wishes

by Deadling



Category: Dead Things Series - Martina McAtee
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 00:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17090429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deadling/pseuds/Deadling
Summary: A fanfiction for the dead things series by Martina McAtee! This is a fic about all of our pack member's holiday traditions!





	Christmas Wishes

Ember woke to the smell of almond and cheese, crisp and wafting through her room. She groaned, shifting in her bed until the scent grabbed hold and pulled her out of bed.

  
Even though she changed relatively fast, there were already others on their way down to investigate.

  
Mace somehow found his way to Ember’s side, walking in rhythm with her down the steps. He said nothing, only yawned and attempted to rub sleep from his eyes. Ember mimicked the actions, sleep calling her back to bed as well.

  
As half the pack stumbled into the kitchen, bleary eyed with the appearance of one of Ember’s revenants, the only difference was that these could be stopped with half a pot of coffee down their gullet.

  
“Neoma?” Ember said, with the same amount of surprise that Tristin said, “Tate?”

  
“Good morning!” The faerie said cheerfully as the panther shifter grunts the same greeting.

  
“What are you doing?” Mace asks, skepticism dripping into his voice. “Down here? Together?”

  
“Making treats!” Neoma holds up a cutting board with five long strings of pale dough. Tate nods and gestures with a spoon toward his own creation. It appears to be a large bowl of goop that he is spooning onto large, thin sheets of dough.

  
Kai pushes past Donovan and Harlow to dip his finger into the bowl, only to be promptly smacked with the spoon Tate is holding and flashed with partially shifted eyes. “Notice there is not a ‘take some’ sign on my bowl.”

  
Kai shrugs and puts his finger in his mouth. Frowning, before he says, “cheese?”

  
Tate nods. “It’s a Greek dish called burig made with filo dough, a cheese mixture, and enough butter to cover the Eiffel Tower.”

  
He holds up a finished triangle before setting it gently on the tray beside him.

  
“And Neoma?” Kai says, eyebrow raised and violet eyes shining.

  
“Kransekake.” Neoma says, a thick Norwegian accent covering the word. “It’s a dish Ezri and Magna taught me.”

 

  
Ember turns to Kai, puzzled. Kai just shrugs in response. “Neoma’s friend.”  
“So, what is,” Tristin clears her throat. “Kransenkaka?”

  
Neoma smiled, laying down thick strips of the dough. “An almond pastry to be covered with glaze.”

  
“I helped her perfect the recipe,” Tate said proudly.

  
Rhys walked down the staircase, RJ attached to his hip, and smirking in amusement at the panther.

  
“You mean the recipe given to Neoma by the second and first generation Norwegian?”

  
“Exactly.” Tate winked. “No fault to them, of course.”

  
“And when did you find out the recipe to burig?” Tristin asked skeptically. “Trip to Greece?”

 

“Of course, Banshee.” Tate rolled his eyes. “I had a lot of free time in my 450 years of existence.”

  
Ember looked up to Mace who shrugged. “I moved to America and for the most part stayed here for the past 150 years. Nowhere exciting.”


End file.
